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Days in Delhi are getting colder, not yet the unkind, and evil sort of, but slighly uncaring and lost in its own thoughts, sort of. Tossing in my bed for around thirty minutes, got up at six and headed for the neighboring deer park, developed to create the illusion of a forest in the middle of the city. I love the park better than the standard ones with manicured lawns, reminds me of the past, of the time in class VII wading through the real forest in Hasimara, a small town close to Bhutan, with Tulsa river running by the side of the Airforce colony where we lived then. It was a picture postcard township and a picture postcard life.
Coming back to today, sat thinking about how time passes by, particularly in the later phase of life as the birthdays supposed to mean something more than what they did in the earlier phases, whiz past like lonely, moffussil railway stations on the route of a superfast non-stop train. Forty passed by, and I didnt noticed, pushing back the exercise regime …

My mind has a strange way of picking odd events which escape common interest as events of significance. What leaves me particularly astounded is the fact that for some odd, eccentric reason, I tend to find things which others would find extremely ordinary as symbols of abrupt change of chapter in the ever evoloving drama which surrounds us and what confounds me even more is the fact that quite so often people around me do not find those very events quiet uninportant and boring. For instance, when the president of the elected party steps aside and pushes on the collective throat of the nation a selected premier in stead of an elected one, creating a parallel governance structure like the communist Soviet Russsia, people hailed it as a sign of a great sacrifice with a complete drama including a small time politician pointing gun to his head, I was more worried than charmed.
The selected could never have the real power, he could only pretend to be helpless. But then, choices are always …